


Rest

by nothingelsematters



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Gen, fluffnstuff, kthxbrain, only rated this because of a few swear words, the hecking heck is this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 19:59:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12116142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nothingelsematters/pseuds/nothingelsematters
Summary: Brendan wants to close his eyes and escape the expectations of a nation.Jason wants to close his eyes and escape the constant comparisons to the men who are his friends.And Shoma just wants to sleep, because quads are tiring.Post-Lombardia silly fluff.





	Rest

**Author's Note:**

> No, I have absolutely no idea where this came from, or why. It just did.
> 
> This fic involves: real locker room talk between a skater from a non-power skating country and a skater from a power skating country; realistic representations of what the Winter Olympics coverage in Australia will be like; Jason swearing; snuggly Shoma; mentions of the men's results in Salt Lake City; and Coach Richard Dornbush.

The door closed behind Brendan, and he sighed and let his body sag onto the bench. Everything seemed to be happening in a whirlwind. He'd gone after Jason and he'd landed that first quad and then everything had gotten  _so much harder_ and he was going to have  _words_ with Tammy about his conditioning when he got back to California because he could have  _sworn_ he was ready for this - landing three quads and four in practice - and then suddenly, internationally, he wasn't.

Ricky had given him that really irritating look, too. The one that said  _you psyched yourself out. Again. I thought we were past this_?

He  _was_ past this. He  _is_. It was just - difficult. This wasn't like his last Olympic season. Last time he'd been the baby of the team who no-one had expected anything of. This time he was  _somebody_. And people had expectations. His country would be watching him, watching  _him_ this time...

_nopenopenopenope don't go down that path you are anonymous back there and will be until February just stay put. do not think about that. do not think about the 22 million people who will all suddenly become winter olympic experts in February and will suddenly be analysing your every move -_

"Hey, you okay?"

The American accent snapped him out of it.

"Yeah," Brendan sighed without opening his eyes. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Nah," Jason replied, and Brendan felt the shift of the bench as Jason sat down next to him. "Your face said you were having an existential crisis."

Brendan huffed out a laugh. "Less my existence, more the existence of a sports-mad nation that will have no qualms about telling me if I fuck up on the Olympic stage."

"Not a good thing to think about."

"No."

There was a moment of silence. Brendan rested his head back against the wall. Maybe, if they were really lucky, he'd be left alone for a while.  _Fat chance. We're stashed here waiting for drug testing. Nothing less alone than having someone watch you piss into a cup._

Jason sighed again and when he spoke there was a nettled tone in his voice, something Brendan didn't think he'd  _ever_ heard. "You know what I woke up to this morning? A million texts blowing up my phone with  _Nathan this_ and  _Nathan that_ and then when I finally got through the million Nathan texts it was  _oh by the way Max landed three quads and laid down a 94 TES_  and it's like, fuck, just let me skate in peace."

"Who landed the quads?"

Brendan didn't have to open his eyes to recognise this voice, either. Painfully quiet and shy with a Japanese accent.

"Max," he answered.

"Okay," Shoma replied. Brendan could just envisage him standing awkwardly by the door. "I can come sit? Very tired."

"Sure," Brendan grinned. "We're stuck here, we may as well sit."

Shoma shuffled onto the bench on Brendan's left, and there was a long silence, long enough that Brendan's mind started drifting and he could hear Shoma's breathing deepening beside him - 

Something tugged at his wrist and he slapped Jason's hands away.

"Hands off the ribbons."

"Why put them there if not to fiddle with?"

"Ask Nikolai because I don't know either," Brendan shrugged. "But for now, shut up. I'm trying to nap."

Silence descended again, and Brendan went back to drifting, feeling his heartbeat slowing down to normal. Warmth sagged against his left side and he felt Shoma's cheek resting on his shoulder; he shifted so that Shoma would be more comfortable and heard a sharp intake of breath.

"Sorry," Shoma stuttered. "I didn't mean-"

"It's cool," Brendan answered.

"I'm so tired."

"I'm not surprised."

There was a shy giggle, and Shoma settled back against Brendan's shoulder. On his right, he felt Jason's body leaning on his. It was warm, warm, and nice, and peaceful...

*

Ricky headed for the room where he knew the medallists had been stashed. His phone was chirping angrily with texts, from Tammy to make sure Brendan warmed down properly, from friends who wanted to make sure he bought Brendan a celebratory icecream, from the Australian fed wanting him to take some pics they could use for publicity; and of course the drug testers were on their way too, ready to subject the three young men to the usual ritual embarrassment.

And of course Brendan himself had left his phone in his skate bag.

He'd really need to have a word to the organisers. The room that had been pointed out to him was little more than a broom closet. And for skaters, Brendan and Jason were both fairly tall. It'd be cramped in there with three of them -

Ricky had to cover his mouth to stop himself from letting out an audible noise when he opened the door.

There were the three medallists of the Lombardia Trophy, snuggled up to each other on a rickety bench, all three of them fast asleep. Brendan with his head back against the wall, Shoma snuggled into his left side, Jason his right. Brendan's left arm was draped lazily over Shoma's back, Shoma's cheek nuzzled into Brendan's chest (being too small to reach the Australian's shoulder). Jason's chin was hooked over Brendan's right shoulder, one ankle hooked around Brendan's and his fingers tangled in the ribbons on Brendan's sleeve. All three men looked peaceful, their worries stripped away, the quiet comfort evident in the relaxed lines of their bodies.

For half a moment, Ricky considered closing the door again, and telling the drug testing folks - now making their way down the corridor towards them - that they needed to come back later. But he knew he couldn't. Grinning slyly, he lifted his phone and snapped a picture of the little huddled pile of skaters. Cherished that one last moment when all three were peaceful and de-stressed.

And then he woke them up.

**Author's Note:**

> PS YOU GO BRENDAN GO WIN AUSTRALIA HONOUR AND GLORY <33333


End file.
